


It Had To Be You

by fallendarlings



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1, Angst, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, But not that much, Canon-Typical Violence, First Kiss, Getting Together, I also almost forgot, I think that's everything, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Oh I forgot to add, Pianist!Bucky, Post-Captain America: The First Avenger, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Winter Soldier Bucky, again not too graphic, basically this is just a mess of feels I hope, because of course there are plums who do you think i am, bucky really really loves steve, idk - Freeform, im shit at tagging im sorry, plums
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 14:47:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7176236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallendarlings/pseuds/fallendarlings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Bucky Barnes cried while playing the piano and one time he didn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Had To Be You

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first stevebucky fic so be nice to me because I am a delicate pixie who's feelings are hurt easily (jk im a demon and i want to fight people 24/7....) mOVING ON. This is also un-beta'd so if you see any mistakes please let me know. It is 4 am after all and I am quite tired so there probably are some. 
> 
> Title is from the song It Had To Be You by Isham Jones. Listen to that for maximum feels.

1.

No ten year old should recognize the shadow of death that surrounded a very sick person. Yet when Bucky Barnes ran into Steve's apartment despite Sarah Rogers' telling him to stay away, he knew without a doubt that his best friend was dying. 

He fell to his knees at Steve's bedside, resting one hand against the other boy's flushed, fever hot cheek. "Stevie." The word was choked, breaking into a sob at the end. It had been a week since Steve had come down with 'a cold' and had to stay home from school. Today, Charles Whipshaw had come up to Bucky (who had been eating alone, as he always did when Steve wasn't around) and declared that Steve was probably dead, that the influenza was awful bad this year and Steve was too weak to survive it. Bucky had punched him in the mouth before running straight to Steve's house to make sure his friend still lived and breathed. 

"Bucky, honey, you can't be here. Your ma would be beside herself if you got sick too." Steve's Ma's hands curled around his shoulders, trying to pull him away but he shook her off, pressing his forehead against Steve's chest that rattled horribly with every breath he took. 

"Steve, you can't die." Tears rolled down his cheeks, soaking into the blankets. "I need you. You're my best friend. Charles Whipshaw don't know nothin'. You ain't gonna die. I won't let you." He felt around until he found Steve's limp hand, squeezing it tightly in his own. "You promised me you'd draw a picture of me for me to give to my ma. And we were gonna go to the baseball games this summer. Don't you dare die before that happens, Stevie Rogers."

Sarah Rogers let out a sound suspiciously similar to the sobs wracking through Bucky and retreated to the kitchen. 

Bucky continued to rant into Steve's chest for almost half an hour about all the things they had to do before he was allowed to die. (Not limited to, but including: adopting a kitten from Millicent Pope when her cat gave birth, teaching said kitten how to fight on command so they could sic it on all the bullies Steve wanted to mess with, going to the circus, seeing who could steal a kiss from a girl before the other, and having each other's backs always). When he ran out of things they had to do, he started talking about how his piano lessons were going. 

Steve's hand shifted in his and Bucky lifted his head quickly to look up into the fever glazed eyes that were staring at him. Cracked lips parted, whispering words he was too weak to speak. "Play for me, please."

Bucky nodded hesitantly, wiping the tears from his cheeks. Steve had woken. He wasn't dead yet. He wasn't going to die at all. He couldn't. "Yeah, okay, Stevie. Ma taught me a new song a few days ago. I'll play that one." He got to his feet shakily and moved across the small room to the piano that sat against the wall. It was old and slightly out of tune, unlike the one at his own house- his Ma's most prized possession-, but it would do just fine. He sat at the bench and took a deep breath, placing his hands on the keys and straightening his shoulders. 

It was almost mindless, how he tapped out the jaunty intro, the notes loosening a bit of the knot of dread in his chest, but as he got ready to add lyrics to melody, he started choking back tears again, his voice scratchy and raw. "  
"It had to be y-you, it had to be you. I wandered around, and finally found the somebody who," He gulped wiping his cheek on on his shoulder so he could keep playing. "Could make me be true. And could make me be blue. And even be glad, just to be sad....thinking of you."

He turned his gaze to Steve instead of the piano. Steve, who was watching him with rapt eyes, even though his face was pale as milk and his brow was beaded with sweat from the illness that had him so close to death. Steve's Ma was leaning against the kitchen doorway and she smiled kindly at Bucky, nodding in time with the music. 

What would happen if Steve did die? "Some others I've seen," Would Bucky die too, if Steve died? He didn't know how to live without him. They were just a tandem thing. A package deal. If you wanted one, you got the other too. "Might never be mean. Might never be cross, or try to be boss." Yes, Bucky would probably die without Steve. He'd get sick too and he would die. Maybe he was already sick. Maybe asthma was catching even though they said it wasn't, because thinking of Steve being dead made Bucky feel like he couldn't breathe. "But they wouldn't do. For nobody else, gave me a thrill. With all your faults, I love you still." Ma said this was a song about lovers but it seemed to Bucky that it was written just for him and Steve. All he wanted, all he ever wanted, was to love Steve forever. For Steve to be happy and healthy and loved. Whether that made them lovers or not, Bucky didn't really care. All he knew was he loved Steve and that was all he did. "It had to be you, wonderful you. It had to be you."

 

2.

Bucky's hands shook terribly as he shoved his things into his bag. It was late, he didn't know how late, but late enough to be too close to morning. Because with the dawns light, he would be shipping off for England and leaving Steve. He didn't want to go. God, he wanted to throw up at just the thought of going. Steve thought he had enlisted, but the truth of the matter was, he'd been too much of a coward and ended up being drafted. Just when he finally had (almost) everything he wanted. A home with Steve where they made just enough money to get by on. Enough for Steve to have art supplies and medicine when he needed it. Enough to go out dancing an evening a week. Enough to take Steve to see a movie whenever he felt like it. He had a steady job and his family wasn't struggling. He had Steve, if not the way he wished, then as close as he would ever get to it. 

He didn't want to go to war. To die just when he was finally happy. But he was strong and able bodied and he had to answer the call when it came. He had listed Steve as his next of kin on his forms though, so when he did die, Steve would get all of the benefits. 

The front door opened and closed softly, as though Steve were hesitant about facing him. After the little spat they'd had at the fair, he couldn't blame the guy. He did have a tendency to start yelling when Steve was doing stupid things and this was his last night here which meant he'd have to do extra yelling for all the stupid things Steve might do while he was gone. But he didn't want to fight. He wanted to march in the other room and grab Steve up and kiss him until they both couldn't breathe, but that was something he could never have. 

When they'd been younger, before he really understood just how cruel the world was, he had always assumed that they'd just end up married someday because his ma had told him when he was little that she and his pa were best friends growing up and they'd always known they loved each other and it would always be like that. But when Bucky had gone home after Steve had almost died and asked if boys could marry boys and girls could marry girls, his pa had spanked him hard and he'd been sent to bed without supper. The next day Ma had explained that things like that were wrong and people who were like that needed to go to special hospitals because there was something wrong inside them and that he should never think or speak of it again. 

As he'd grown older, he'd begun to pay more attention to things around them, had seen what happened to the fairies, the queers. At fifteen, he'd seen two men be beaten to death in an alley for kissing each other and the murderers had walked free from the police station because it was 'just a couple of homosexuals, not real people'. He could never ever put Steve in that kind of danger. 

Dropping his bag on the end of his bed, he took a deep breath and went into the living room. Steve was hanging up his jacket, a lock of shaggy blonde hair hanging in his eyes. "What'd they say at the recruitment office?"

Steve looked down, shuffled his feet a bit. "You're home early. I thought you'd be out all night dancing, maybe going home with a dame. It is your last night after all."

Which was why he wanted to spend it with the person he loved most in the world. "Nah. Don't change the subject. Was it another 4F?" God, he hoped so. If there was anything that would upset him more than having to leave Steve, it would be if Steve actually got accepted into the army and ended up in a war zone instead of safe in Brooklyn. 

"They, uh," Steve gulped, glancing at him with nervous blue eyes. "Caught me lying on my enlistment form."

"Shit!" Bucky couldn't breathe. He'd seen what they'd done to people who lied on their forms while he was at basic. Steve didn't stand a chance in hell of surviving that. "Shit, Steve, I told you this would happen! But no, you had to try again. Why can't you just-"

"Bucky, calm down!" Steve hurried over to him and placed a hand in his shoulder. "They told me not to do it again and sent me home. That's it. I'm fine. They ain't gonna punish me or nothin'."

Bucky sagged back against the wall, wheezing out a breath. "I swear to the heavens, you're gonna give me an early death one of these days, Steve Rogers. I'm gonna die of your stupidity and then haunt you forever."

"Now that's just taking to the end of the line too far, Buck." Steve laughed. "Besides, you don't wanna haunt me when you could be up in heaven wooing all the lady angels."

Bucky rolled his eyes. Like he could ever do that. Even in death he'd have to stick around and make sure Steve didn't do stupid shit and get himself killed. "Nah, I'd rather just stick around and pester you forever."

"You're rude." Steve toed off his shoes and flopped onto the couch. "Since you're here anyway and not out with a dame, and the radio broke last week, you should play piano for a bit. It'll be the last music I get to hear for a while until you're done trying to blow up Europe."

"I'm a sniper, not an explosives man, punk." Bucky moved over to the piano nevertheless. But Steve's words had brought back the heavy fact that he was leaving tomorrow yet again and his hands shook infinitesimally. "What do you want me to play?"

"Hmm," Steve bit his lower lip and furrowed his brows, thinking. "What was that one you played when we were kids? The year I had the influenza so badly?"

"It had to be you." Bucky swallowed hard and nodded. "Whatever you want, Stevie." This time, he slowed the notes down from the quick pace Ma had originally taught him. The song was actually slower but she'd preferred things faster paced. "It had to be you, it had to be you  
I wandered around, and finally found the somebody who.... could make me be true." In the interest of not breaking into horribly heartbroken sobs, he needed to make a few lyric changes. "And I'm gonna fuckin' kill you. If you do stupid shit while I'm gone... thinking of you."

Steve laughed. A loud, boisterous laugh that Bucky always tried so hard to be the cause of. It felt like someone was digging in his chest with a knife, making a Steve shaped hole where his heart was supposed to be. "Some others I've seen, might never be mean. Might never be cross, or try to be boss. But they wouldn't do. For nobody else, gave me a heart attack because of stupid shit." He gulped, launching into the next verse. It was just a song. Steve would never know how true it rang with him. "With all your faults, I love you still. It had to be you, dumbass punk you. It had to be you."

Steve was still laughing. But silent tears were rolling down Bucky's cheeks. He didn't want to go, dammit. He was gonna die and never see Steve again. "For nobody else, gave me a thrill. With all your faults, I love you still. It had to be you, wonderful you. It had to be you." He sniffled, blinking hard. Steve couldn't see him crying and the song was almost over. "No one else but you could thrill me. So it had to be you."

3.

Steve was in love with Peggy Carter. 

Bucky had seen it as soon as the woman had approached his quite frankly, Greek god of a best friend when they'd reached the camp after Steve had rescued him. In an irrational wave of jealousy (during which his mind had been screaming _mine, mine, mine, mine, mine_ as the two had flirted) he'd done his best to drag Steve's attention back to him, but it had barely worked. 

After a few weeks of Bucky being treated by the best doctors available- at Steve's insistence- and more than a few failed interrogations about what had happened to him in Hydra's lab (Bucky didn't like to talk about it, the nightmares so fresh in his mind making him shake with unfounded fear and mental agony. Steve forcefully made everyone leave the room the moment Bucky showed any signs of a breakdown, holding him in a tight hug and whispering that he didn't have to talk about it if it was too difficult.), he and Steve and a few of the men he was closest too in the 107th were all crowded into a bar in London, having a merry time while agreeing to follow Steve into suicide missions to take out Hydra. 

Bucky did not want to go anywhere near Hydra ever again. 

However, what he wanted even less was for Steve to go on those missions without him there to watch his back and say no to any dumb plans because he was the only one who would dare disobey Captain's orders. So he was going back to fight Hydra whether he liked it or not. 

Agent Carter hadn't hung around the bar long after that little scene about going dancing. Bucky was more than a little annoyed that his efforts to deflect the woman's attentions off of Steve and onto himself had failed. And what was that whole thing about waiting for the right partner that had made Steve look so in awe about anyway? Steve didn't even know how to dance. Bucky had partnered with him, trying to teach him the steps enough times to know the poor guy was hopeless at it. 

He downed another beer. 

Surprisingly, even after as many as he'd had already, he was barely feeling a buzz. It caused a lump of dread low in his stomach, that whatever they had done to him in that god damn lab had done something to his body, made it not quite his own. He hadn't said a word, not even to Steve, but the cuts and bruises he'd sustained in the torture chamber had healed almost as quickly as the burns Steve had gotten from jumping through the fire had. Whatever they'd done to him... he wasn't sure it was good. 

Who was he trying to kid? It was Hydra. It couldn't be good. 

"Hey, bring back the music!" Dum-Dum scowled as the pianist left the instrument and disappeared through a back door. "Can't even get a little cheer for longer than ten minutes in a fucking war."

The guy had been playing for at least a few hours, but all the rest of the newly formed 'Howling Commandoes' team except for Steve and himself were completely drunk off their rockers so he didn't say anything. 

"You know," Steve grinned at him. "Bucky plays a bit of piano."

"Steve, no." He groaned. It was one thing, playing around family, people he'd known all his life. He wasn't gonna play for an entire bar. He cast a sharp look to the very interested soldiers at the table. "Only a few things that my ma taught me as a kid. Not well enough to play here."

"Bullshit." Steve laughed, nudging him with his foot under the table. "Go play that song you played before you left, but not the slow version."

Bucky loved Steve but he wanted to slap him. That was...that song was their thing. It was one he held very close to his heart, something he wanted to share with Steve and Steve only. But obviously it didn't mean the same to Steve as it did to Bucky. 

Because Steve loved Peggy. 

He had to get away from this table before he started crying. So yeah, maybe the piano was a good escape. "You know what? I will." He pushed his chair back and sauntered over to the instrument, his chin held high. He grabbed a mug of beer off one of the bar maids that walked past and took a loud gulp, setting it down hard on the top of the piano. He turned to look back at his new team, pretending to be much more drunk than he was. "This one's for you, Stevie!" He shouted over the din. "For makin' me play at all."

The notes flowed off his fingers as he started playing, the crowd in the bar immediately hanging off his every move. "It had to be you, it had to be you. I wandered around, and finally found the somebody who could make me be true. And could make me be blue. And even be glad, just to be sad. Thinking of you." Quite a few people recognized the song and started singing along with him. "Some others I've seen, might never be mean. Might never be cross, or try to be boss. But they wouldn't do." Nobody would do. He couldn't have Steve, and so he wouldn't have anyone at all. "For nobody else, gave me a thrill. With all your faults, I love you still...." But Steve loved Peggy. He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, keeping the knot in his chest from rising, but a few unbidden tears still slipped down his cheeks. If anyone saw it, they didn't point it out. "It had to be you, wonderful you. It had to be you. For nobody else, gave me a thrill. With all your faults, I love you still. It had to be you, wonderful you. It had to be you. No one else but you could thrill me. So it had to be you."

He ended the song with a few crashing notes, then stood up and walked out of the bar with loud cheers following him. He didn't look back, not even when Steve called his name, full of confusion that he couldn't address. Steve would have Peggy and he would be happy and healthy and loved and that was all Bucky had ever wanted for him. 

Right?

 

4.

The Soldier was trained. 

There were months of combat and weapons training. But even longer was the time spent on languages and social training so that no matter what the mission, he would fit in seamlessly. He was taught to play every instrument that existed. 

They left the piano for last, worried that it would trigger him, as his file said he played before. Before what, he didn't know. Couldn't remember and didn't care. Before didn't matter. 

His handler brought him to a room where a dark brown upright piano was situated against one wall. Guards lined the others. The Soldier sat at the bench and waited for instruction. 

"Place your hands on these keys, we'll start with chords." His Handler indicated the C, E, and G keys. The Soldier didn't know how he knew this. His fingers found the right position and he sucked in a breath that made his handler look at him sharply. "What do you remember?"

"I-" The Soldier couldn't say. His mind was a reel of blue eyes and something deep inside his chest that hurt so badly to remember and he couldn't place it but his fingers were moving on the keys and words were flowing from his lips without him giving them permission to. "With all your faults, I love you still. It had to be you, wonderful you. It had to be you." Liquid was rolling down his cheeks and he couldn't understand why. Emotion wasn't something the Soldier felt. It distracted from a mission. Emotion was unnecessary. But....it had to be.... 

Stevie. 

He jolted up from the bench, bringing his metal arm up to punch the handler. "Steve. Oh god, Stevie." He could remember falling, remember biting cold and a train. And it hurt everywhere and it had never stopped hurting and the liquid on his cheeks was tears. "I- Steve!" 

The guards descended, a single dart in his shoulder rendering all his muscles useless. 

The Soldier was put in the chair and everything hurt. 

 

5.

He wasn't the Winter Soldier, wasn't the Asset, but nor could he let himself be Bucky Barnes. He could remember Bucky Barnes' memories but they felt separate, felt sacred, a place he couldn't touch. 

After the fight on the helicarrier, after the words from Steve that had unlocked his mind, he'd returned to Brooklyn, hiding in the condemned apartment building where he and Steve used to live. Steve was looking for him, he knew because he was watching him, and this wasn't the safest place to hide out because surely Steve would check here, but he couldn't bring himself to leave. It was the bit of Bucky's life that he would allow himself to have. 

He could remember loving Steve, knew he loved him even now. He also knew that he could never act on that love because even as the times had changed, so had he and he was no good for Steve. He'd done too many horrible things in his too long life. 

Wasn't it cruel, for him to survive everything, only to live a life that wasn't worth living? But Hydra's programming had forbidden the Soldier to self destruct and so as badly as he wanted to turn a gun to his temple or a knife to his throat, he couldn't. That was one of the few fucking things he'd been unable to get out of his head. 

It was night time in the city and he was roaming the streets, unable to sleep due to the nightmares that plagued him every time he closed his eyes. He'd taken the subway to Manhattan, to roam around Central Park, where Steve jogged every morning since he'd moved into the Avengers Tower. And that was another thing. Even if he was a whole person who could be any good for Steve, Steve had new friends now, friends who were billionaires and gods and giant green rage monsters and okay yeah there were a few assassins in there, but they were in control of themselves. Steve didn't need him anymore. 

He sat down on one of the benches and rested his forehead in his hands, taking several deep breaths. Across the sidewalk from him, a homeless guy was randomly tapping away on a keyboard, creating nothing that even resembled a song. He pushed his hair out of his face and approached the guy. Maybe he'd let himself have another small piece of Bucky Barnes, just for a moment. "Hey pal, uh, so you mind if I play something?"

The guy stared up at him for a full 53 seconds before moving away from the instrument and gesturing that he could have a go. "You don't really look like the type to play, but have at it."

"I'm not," he settled his hands on the keys. "But a long time ago, I used to be." The notes drifted carefully from his fingers, hesitant like the keys would break if he pressed too hard. He had once known a lot of songs, but after all the wipes and the years and being unwilling to dredge into Bucky's memories, he remembered only the one song. "It had to be you, it had to be you. I wandered around, and finally found the somebody who could make me be true. And could make me be blue. And even be glad, just to be sad. Thinking of you."

He wasn't particularly glad at how sad it made him to think of Steve but whatever. And if the guy dared say a word about the tears rolling down his cheeks, he might deck him. "Some others I've seen, might never be mean. Might never be cross, or try to be boss. But they wouldn't do... For nobody else, gave me a thrill. With all your faults, I love you still. It had to be you, wonderful you. It had to be you."

"That's pretty good and all, but it sounds like it's something my grandma would play." The homeless guy spoke, causing his fingers to pause on the keys. "What's it from, like, 1930?"

"1924." He and Steve had been six years old. 

"That's coo- holy shit."

He glanced over at the homeless guy but got distracted by the presence of the Black Widow who had somehow snuck up in front of him. The Soldier would have been punished severely for such a slip up. He wasn't the Soldier anymore though, and he could remember his days in the Red Room, training Natalia, when they'd been almost friends. He stood up, folding his arms over his chest and eyeing the redhead warily. "Natalia."

She pursed her lips, looking him up and down, probably getting a good guess as to just how many weapons he had on him and what they were. She was the best. After all, he had helped train her. "Bumming it doesn't suit you, Barnes." 

"You gonna tell Steve you found me?"

"Nah, if I wanted to do that, I'd have told him weeks ago when I tracked you down to that decrepit apartment building. Surprised it didn't fall in on top of you, honestly." So she had been tracking him for weeks and he'd missed it entirely. Some of that could be chalked up to the agony of withdrawals from whatever drugs Hydra had had him on, but it was still inexcusable. "You'll go to him when you're ready to see him."

"Then why are you here?" He lifted a brow. She was a flawless liar so for all he knew, she could be planning on stabbing him with a tranquilizer and having him carted back to Steve with a big red bow wrapped around him. Here you go, have a royally fucked up assassin who's wanted by everyone in the world. Happy birthday, Merry Christmas, hoorah. 

"I just wanted to tell you that while you're hiding in that rats nest trying to figure out your life, Steve is spending 20 hour days trying to track you down, he won't stop to eat and he barely sleeps when he does rest. It's taking a toll. That serum that's supposed to have cured him of all his ailments? Today he had an anxiety attack after taking out one of the Hydra cells in the city. Turned into an asthma attack and he passed out before anyone could get to him. Apparently he didn't want anyone to know." She folded her arms, mirroring his stance. "While you're in the park, singing angsty songs at midnight about how Steve is your only love or something, he's probably having some nightmare about never being able to find you and save you now because he couldn't save you from falling. Just thought you should have that to think about."

He was a horrible person. Steve needed him and he was literally singing in the park about how much he loved him but at the same time, he was refusing to go to him. 

Natalia started to walk away. 

"No, wait." He reached out and caught her elbow. "Steve... I can't be the person he wants me to be. I'm not Bucky. I've done too many things that Bucky would never have done."

"Steve knows you're different now." Well yeah, that kind of went without saying, considering he'd tried to kill the guy a few months ago. "But all he wants is what you're willing to give. Whatever that may be."

"I'll go with you. I'll see him." All he wanted was for Steve to be happy. Whatever that took, he would do it. 

Twenty minutes later found him in a bone crushingly tight hug and a name he didn't respond to anymore being whispered against his skin like the holiest litany. And maybe with Steve's help he could be that person again. 

 

+1.

It took a year until he finally felt like Bucky again. The nightmares were still there and Sam said they probably always would be. But he'd learned to live with what he had done all those years, accepted that he'd had no choice, but he didn't do those things anymore. He was a good person now. 

When he was asked to join the Avengers, he turned them down and Steve did too, resigning from being Captain America unless something like the Battle of New York happened again and he was needed to ensure the world would survive. But he was done with any other missions. They still stayed in their apartment in the tower though. Bucky had grown quite fond of Jarvis and the general feeling of family that the movie nights and game tournaments and prank wars inspired. Steve had too. 

He curled up on the couch, resting his head on Steve's thigh as he munched on a plum. They'd become his favorite out of the smorgasbord of fresh fruit that was offered every day. His stomach had taken forever to adjust to eating real food after seventy some odd years of protein pastes. Lots of plums had been eaten in the adjustment period. "Steve?"

"Hmm?" Steve's hand paused in stroking through his hair. He'd kept it long as a reminder that he wasn't fully Bucky Barnes and never would be. That, and he really liked the way Steve liked to play with it and braid it. 

"Can I play the piano?" He'd been fighting down the urge to get his fingers on keys for months. His therapist had said it was a good idea to do things from his old life, but that was something he hadn't been brave enough to touch after that last time in the park. 

"You don't have to ask, Bucky, you know that." Steve retracted his fingers from Bucky's hair and took the plum from him when he sat up. "You play the piano, I'll finish your fruit."

"Okay." He hurriedly washed the sticky juice off his fingers and dried them before returning to the living room (which was three times as large as their entire apartment had been way back in the 40s). Steve'd had a piano when Bucky had first come to the tower. Bucky didn't ask why and Steve hadn't said. "What should I play?"

Steve stretched out on the couch and smiled languidly at him. "Play our song, please."

"Our song?" His pulse jumped. Yeah, he'd always thought of it as theirs, but he'd still never said a word to Steve about his feelings. Maybe today he would. 

"You know the one."

He did. "Whatever you want, Stevie." The words were ghosts of memories past, but they still rang as true as the music he created on the keys. "It had to be you, it had to be you. I wandered around, and finally found the somebody who could make me be true." Steve was smiling at him and he was smiling back. For once, he was smiling with the music, not crippled by sadness. "And could make me be blue. And even be glad, just to be sad. Thinking of you." Something about the rapt affection in Steve's gaze pushed away his doubts. He'd spent the last year watching Steve, not daring to hope for more than he was getting, and yet in all his watching, Steve had always been watching him back. Often looking disappointed when Bucky would pull back from a hug that had gone on too long for 'two dudes being bros' as Sam liked to say, or getting flushed and stammering whenever Bucky removed his shirt. 

Yeah, Bucky was feeling pretty good about his hopes with Steve. "Some others I've seen, might never be mean. Might never be cross, or try to be boss. But they wouldn't do. For nobody else, gave me a thrill." He looked over, making eye contact with the blond man he loved so much. "With all your faults, I love you still." Steve sucked in a breath. "It had to be you, wonderful you. It had to be you. For nobody else, gave me a thrill. With all your faults, I love you still. It had to be you, wonderful you. It had to be you. No one else but you could thrill me, so it had to be you."

He stood up from the bench as Steve launched himself from the couch, meeting him in the center of the room. 

Blue eyes searched his. "How long, Buck?"

He smiled softly, leaning into the hand cupping his cheek. "Forever, I guess. You?"

"Too long." Steve growled, fisting his hand in Bucky's shirt and yanking him closer as his mouth pressed hard against Bucky's. 

And Jesus mother of Christ, Bucky was dying. He was dying and flying apart at the edges and the only thing holding him together was Steve's arms around him and his mouth pressing insistently against Bucky's and this was all he wanted to do for the rest of his life. He let out a sigh, pressing himself against Steve as close as he could, sucking the other man's lip between his own before pulling back just enough to speak. "Stevie. I love you. God, I love you so much. I've always loved you. You have to know."

Steve _whimpered_ at that. Grasped harder at Bucky and dragged him into another kiss. "I love you too. Always. Forever."

And yeah. Bucky want who he used to be, but neither was Steve the same boy who had been dying of influenza and pulled through by some stroke of a miracle. But they had made it to the future and they were together and really, that was all that mattered.


End file.
